Happy New Year 2017! (post number 101! : )

Maybe one day someone will like you for that little strand of hair coming out from the back of your neck, smaller than the other strands, little curled up and unnoticed by the normal folk.

That one day from when you are appreciated for your hidden colors that you only showcased in a locked room.

When someone happily becomes the mirror in front of which you can carelessly dance!

Maybe one day someone happens to love you for the things in you that other people found ugly and disgusting, much less you yourself!

Maybe that day is in the coming year?

Happy new year 2017 to my readers!

Let us all love more, live more, expect less, worry less and give more!

Good night! 🙂

‘One Has To Admire His Ability As A Poet’ by Kevin Higgins

loved this one.


One Has To Admire His Ability As A Poet

“I was struck by … his courage in speaking out to defend the memory of Charles Haughey”
Vincent Woods, RTE website

To defend the memory of Boris Yeltsin’s
vodka bottle. To take money from both the late Benito
Mussolini and, when pragmatism demanded it, those
who spat on him when he was safely
hanging upside down outside an Esso station.
To put in the proper context of realpolitik
as practised in parts of County Wexford
the late Father Fortune’s harem of boys.
To share a Ouija board with President Duvalier
while supping rum from the skull of an infant
who was always going to come to this
because, in the words of W.H.Auden,
‘poetry makes fuck-all difference’.
To share a roast leg with General Amin
and not mind which of his enemies was being eaten.
To recite even his longer poems

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they didn’t teach me to speak a language that they understood

There is this needle

In my head

It goes in and out

And in and out

All through the day

So bloody pointy I don’t know who sharpens it while it’s already at work, ALWAYS.

It’s unbreakable too, at least that’s what I have discovered.


I didn’t tell Them about it.

Looks like they speak a language that I do, too

But they understand a completely foreign language that I Know nothing about!

So it’s hard to explain them, about this needle


I don’t know may be unknowingly they played their roles too,

In sharpening its parts, its tip.

I think they did it when they forgot to teach me to speak the language that they understood.


It’s so hard being in here,

In this dark room with windows

Where the light pokes the wounds instead of healing them.


And then suddenly everything! This and that and yes that in the corner too,

Adds onto the pile

There are so many needles now

All of them trying to bind me,

Put me through their hollow parts

Crush my ends, spit on me just to be able to crush me all the more!


Till when I fit in

When I finally give up and sew my dear tongue

And my ears and my lips and then my heart

Damn! Their points bite and rip apart my skin

And they think that they are making me beautiful

Shit, they think that they are making me better.


Just like that man, who plucks the flowers and puts them on her tiara

He thinks that he did those selected few a favor,

“You are the best ones so you got picked, do you understand that?”


“How will they?”, I ask him!

Man they don’t understand the language that you speak!

Lucky are the ones, who aren’t that perfect,

They aren’t picked so soon.

They remain intact with their souls

A little longer

Until they die and fall down on their own will.

My Strawberry

You really loved strawberry and then with time you headed south and then that fresh strawberry wasn’t available there, so you stopped thinking about it.

And then you come for vacation, back to north and ate your favorite apple. But obviously apple isn’t strawberry. It is pink and has its own juicy-musy.

Later you a get card, which holds the invitation to a marriage. You think it would be uncomfortable there as you didn’t have any company so you decide to bunk it.

Next day you get to see the video album with the clips and pictures of the marriage, and guess what.

HAHAHA- there was pineapple and lichi and dragon fruit AND Strawberry!

You never had imagined that fresh strawberry would be there too. Everyone got to eat its custard and drink that tasty shake which was supposed to be drunk by you, all of it, because it was your favorite, not theirs.

And looking at that fresh strawberry at a marriage function, in winter would have been one of the most amazing things. But then you couldn’t, because you didn’t go there.

You missed it.

p.s- few things are kinda shitty and remorseful, never mind.

Yeah you know that you didn’t get to taste it, but still you would say that Strawberries aren’t sour.

Its fine you might get to taste them may be at some other marriage function. May be when you are so old that your teeth can’t bite them and when your eyes are protected by those thick glasses and who even wants to see a strawberry from behind the glass. Well, well.

Happy winters!


I was running out of words

As I have run out of feelings

There are cuts, burns

But they never make me cry

There are people, scary

But I never speak in shriek

My voice is firm since a while

I don’t care what people say

There are going to say anyway

So I let them.

I think we all are waters

Some boil underground

Some are frozen over hills.

But I am the one who comes in your tap

Since the one who is running is only me.

I have lost a few and I don’t want to get them back

Since, I feel I lost them for good

Or may be that they left me for good

Their own good

Maybe they are better off without me

Because I am the one who comes in your tap, not them

Some use me, some save me, some throw me away

But I am always running

I don’t know from what, or whom

I don’t know when God has planned to turn off the tap

Or if He has plans to give me another direction

But today

I have got to run

Because that’s the only thing I know.